


Sacrifice

by Nirmalneaners



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, Bruce Feels, Bruce Has Issues, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Canonical Character Death, Character Death, Deathfic, Developing Relationship, Doomsday, Feelings Realization, Feels, Goodbyes, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Relationships, Injury, Last Kiss, Last Moments, Last words, M/M, Major Character Injury, POV Bruce, Permanent Injury, Poor Bruce, Sad Ending, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-14 02:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16031108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nirmalneaners/pseuds/Nirmalneaners
Summary: The beast slowly turned to look at him, two blood red beads piercing through the dissipating smoke of an exploded Baterang. He squeezed the other that was ready in his hand, his grip shaking with the pressure as he gritted his teeth. The ground cracked as it put a foot forward, turning its body in what felt like slow motion to face him with all its attention. He never expected the feeling of calm that washed over him as he stared death in the eyes, but he felt as the muscles in his body uncoiled, a feeling of weightlessness left him nauseated as he no longer felt the force of gravity planting him against the rubble under his boots. His jaw relaxed as he stared back, his face settling into a resigned look of finality as his fingers slowly opened to let the Batarang fall to the floor with an echoing clang.His life will buy time. It was his turn to save-"Clark."





	Sacrifice

The notion of Death wasn't a stranger to him. It was an acquaintance that greeted him fleetingly through the years. It appeared when a knife cut a little too deep in the breaks of his armor, or when a bullet nestled deep into his flesh. All the times he flatlined on Alfreds make-shift operating table. He had always thought, _expected really_ , that one day he would finally suck in a breath and feel the heaviness around his eyes relax and shut; the constant ache from a battered body turning into a distant hum as he slowly exhaled. And then he would open his eyes, maybe it would be blurry at first, a little too bright, but it would focus in and he would see gleaming white pearls and the soft brown warmth of his Mothers eyes as they crinkled around the sides with a smile.  
  
Of crouse, it never happened. He always woke up to the same throb, the same stiffness in his bones that had been there so long he had forgotten what it was like to feel comfortable in his own skin. And maybe that was the problem, he had become immune to the notion of Death. The concept no longer held meaning to him, and so he never expected to go into a situation and account for the fact _he could die_. Like a fool, _he didn't fear death_.  
  
He felt it now though, as clear as he still saw blood-soaked pearls when he shut his eyes. Fear clung to him like a second skin, clawing its way through his nervous system like a disease. He was going to die. But unlike he imagined It was his choice or lack of. It was instinctual when he reacted to the situation unfolding, a base instinct. That lack of conscious judgment would have been a cause for concern later if he were to return to the cave. But he wouldn't so he ignored it.  
  
The beast slowly turned to look at him, two blood red beads piercing through the dissipating smoke of an exploded Baterang. He squeezed the other that was ready in his hand, his grip shaking with the pressure as he gritted his teeth. The ground cracked as it put a foot forward, turning its body in what felt like slow motion to face him with all its attention. He never expected the feeling of calm that washed over him as he stared death in the eyes, but he felt as the muscles in his body uncoiled, a feeling of weightlessness left him nauseated as he no longer felt the force of gravity planting him against the rubble under his boots. His jaw relaxed as he stared back, his face settling into a resigned look of finality as his fingers slowly opened to let the Batarang fall to the floor with an echoing _clang._  
  
His life will buy time. It was his turn to save-  
  
_"Clark."_  
  
He slid his gaze down to the floor behind the bulk of the beast when it took the first step towards him, and he felt the slight tremors of the Earth, but it all blurred out when he honed in on red and blue led amongst the debris. It always seemed impossible until it was forced into reality. A uniform, hope woven into every strand, left tattered clinging to fatigued muscles.  
  
His name was the only thing that stirred movement as Clark forced his shaking body to react. His head slowly lifted from the ground, lips parted in a grimace that even a blind man would see the agony such a simple act caused him. _The blood._ The color was wrong on the man, shades too dark and dismal, marring the lightly tanned skin. But it was when his eyes finally un-scrunched and found Bruce's that time seemed to slow down as if to torture him in his last moments. Dispirited. All the light that Bruce hung too like a lifeline was gone, instead, tiredness and such profound guilt tainted those blue irises and he felt as his own eyes started to burn at the sight. It was in that moment his internal organs twisted painfully, the raw desperation staring at him as Clark battled to keep his head up. He realized Clark always answered him, whenever he called his name.  
  
"I got your note," he said mournfully. He shouldn't have left it till this moment, he should have said something sooner. He had known. There were a lot of things he should have done, but here they were. The trouble was, you always thought you had _time_. It roared, a deep rumble that echoed off the ruins of nearby buildings, a sound almost like bones cracking undertoning as a ragged spike extended out its hand to drag across the floor. He only had seconds before it was on him. He blocked it all, his focus only on that one beautiful man led in the dirt. He breathed in, let it out shakily and stared with all the intent he could. _"I love you, too."_  
  
Clark's face blocked out of view as it finally stood before him, and he felt as his fear boiled into pure blistering _rage_. He looked up at the beast and glared as a fisted hand raised, the claw only an arm's length away pointing towards him with no miscommunication of its purpose, or its end. He would have been shaken at the sight if he had got to see Clarks face after his admission, but this piece of shit stole that from him. It was all he could think about. He will die never knowing if Clark's eyes softened. If his lips formed- and he knew from this distance he wouldn't hear it- to mimic the words back at him. He would never see his tongue roll as his lips wrapped around the word _love._  
  
He saw the gleam in its eyes as the claw inched backward. He was going die, but he was at peace with it. Clark, god that stupid brilliant man, had time. He would win, he was the one who will save this world and leave it better than they had found it. The world needed him more than he needed Bruce.  
  
It was a blur, his vision left out of focus. A war cry. It happened to fast to catch. He was staring at the beast, or he was. its head had turned to the side at an unnatural angle. His eyes blinked frantically, a ringing in his ear that sounded like bone cracking as his vision started to sharpen and he stared up at the sky. He realized he was on his back, and he led for a moment dazed, watching as a dirt cloud slowly settled. He could faintly see the stars.  
  
The war cry echoed in his mind, and his blood ran cold with a sickening realization as he heard a pained cry. _Clark._ He forced himself to sit up with a grunt, the motion distorting the corners of his vision. He watched, scrambling to his feet as the tip of the spike left Clark's chest. It was as if it were the only thing keeping the man up, but as soon as it fell to the ground, Clark crumpled forward with a harsh thud, his shoulder meeting the floor as he wheezed out.  
  
He was running over shouting his name. He could feel the scratch in his throat, the breakage in his voice as he fell to his knees, hand gripping a shoulder as he turned him over onto his lap. He slid his hand under Clark's head, the other gripping his side to pull him in as close as their position would allow.  
  
"Clark? _Clark!_ " he pleaded, an urgency in his voice that made his chest shudder. Eyelids fluttered open to gaze up at him, and he sucked in a breath through trembling lips. " _What have you done?"_ blood was starting to seep from his chest. Bruce lifted his head a little more, adjusting his grip.  "Stay with me. _Please._ "  
  
"That thing," he whispered, voice strained. His eyebrows scrunched down as his mouth grimaced from the effort, his eyelids drooped with the threat of closure. Bruce felt a wetness on his cheeks. He was crying, breaths stuttering as Clark's eyes looked at him softly. "Is he-"  
  
_"Yes."_ He cut in. His eyes flicking all over Clark's face, he wanted to touch. Mold his hand to Clark's jawline and put their foreheads together. Instead, he squeezed around Clark's middle a little tighter. "You did it. You saved everyone."  
  
"Good," he breathed, a clarity in his eyes. "That's all I ever wanted," Bruce shivered as a hand slowly rose up, resting gently against his cowl. It felt like a barrier, it was in the way of Clarks touch. He wanted to feel the soft scratch of their skin rubbing together, the heat. "Except _for_ _you_."  
  
He closed his eyes, leaning his head more into Clark's palm and breathed him in. He memorized the scent, not even the copper tang of blood could mar it. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to be dead, Clark was supposed to live. Not this. He never wanted this. He looked back into Clarks eyes when a thumb started to stroke the exposed skin of his jaw. He was _smiling_ , blood shinning his lips as it trailed down past his chin.  
  
"What a lucky man," his voice trailed off as he slowly blinked. He breathed in low, and as he whispered there was a muted fondness. _"I was."_  
  
Tears slid down as he smiled, his eyes lids starting to drop until they finally closed. Bruce felt as the hand on his face lost pressure.  
  
"No." he caught the hand and planted it back against his face harshly, leaning down to kiss Clark a few times sloppily. He felt a wetness smear across his cheek and lips that he knew wasn't from tears. His eyes widened as the weight in his lap grew heavy. He was- _"_ No. _No."_  
  
He tucked him into his neck tightly as his body heaved trying to suck in air, curling himself over Clark's body like a blanket as he mumbled his name like a broken mantra. His fingers threaded through the ones against his face.  
  
Death always fleeted through his life, but it was never him it took as a sacrifice.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this fic partially written in my fic folder for months, and as I was sorting through old projects I shoved in an unfinished folder and forgot about it. 
> 
> Welp, I'm trying to clear them off and didn't have the heart to delete it, so enjoy. It got finished.
> 
> Also kudos to anyone who can tell where I got the idea!


End file.
